


The Night to Remember

by Unofficial_Doctor



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Alternate Universe, Basically everybody from the game, Canonical Character Death, He's got a job and a life and everything, I mean the game itself is a spoiler soooo, Sissel is human, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:02:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unofficial_Doctor/pseuds/Unofficial_Doctor
Summary: This is the story of tonight. Tonight is the night of all nights. An unforgettable story told through the eyes unexpected, someone who really had no place in the tale. This certain someone, they were the first. The first to light up the shadows surrounding this city.(Basically, a really long thought-out Ghost Trick AU that I've had and I need to get it out.)





	1. Chapter 1

A city at night is always a dangerous, mischievous place. Alleyways and parks enveloped in darkness, with the weak orange glow of the streetlamps, it’s the perfect cover for all doings sinful in nature. All cities have their secrets. All cities bear their ghosts. However, this city is a little different, compared to any other. Spirits lurk in the shadows of any other alley; here in this place, the spirits walk among the light of the living. There’s no need for them to hide away in the dark of night.

Yet. there are those that fight against that, shedding away the sickly weak light. Unfortunately, they are limited to only the light. Those are lacking in abundance, especially in the dark.

The story of tonight. An unforgettable story told through the eyes unexpected, someone who really had no place in the tale. This certain someone, they were the first. The first to light up the shadows surrounding this city.

* * *

**_BEEP BEEP BEE-_ **

A lazy hand pulled back to the bed from the wooden nightstand, and a body curled to the side, head burying itself into the sheets as a mellow, sickly ray slipped through the window, past the drapes, giving the room a somber, earthy tone.

The morning is always an unpleasant routine for the young man curled up, in denial that in only a few minutes, he would eventually have to lift his tired body from the bed and do the same things he does every morning.

Typical Monday.

The alarm begins to ring again, and he, unwillingly, drags his hand over again to the clock, bringing his head up ever so slightly to check the time.

Twenty minutes past the alarm set.

The young man sprung out of bed, almost with a catlike agility which would have been impressive, if he hadn't fallen head first into the floor. The culprit: his right foot caught in the sheet. With a groan, he heaved himself to his feet and began to rush around the small apartment.

Running to slip on a pair of slacks and a dress shirt while trying to drink a shake and looking for glasses is no easy feat. But, it is something this man deals with every Monday morning, and it is entirely his fault.

After a great jumble of clothes, falling and yelling, he had finally thrown a look together and took a moment to look in the mirror. He was a moderately tall young man, about 5'8" and slightly slender. His skin was a light brown, and his dark hair was slicked back, with one stray strand stuck up and curled, refusing to stay down despite the massive amount of products in his hair. A pair of yellow tinted glasses sat on his nose, and he adorned a red bandana tied around his neck. Just for style.

With a nod of approval, he turned and headed out, and pinned a shined gold badge onto his black overcoat.

It read "Sissel."

* * *

 Back at the daily grind for another week. With two warm coffees in his hands, Sissel could steal the warmth from the cups to his hands for this chilly start of the day. Sidewalk traffic was always messy but he could manage; he was fully awake now after all. Yet, it does help that the police station is not too far away from a coffee shop. Very convenient, in his personal opinion. He walked in, and was met with a force and almost brought him to the floor, but he managed to pull himself into a more balanced posture, eying the bright yellow coat of a certain someone.

"Sissel!"

"Hmph! Hey, Lynne. Excited to see you too."

Lynne was a particularly pretty girl. Lean, slender frame, with a delicate face that was carved with the utmost attention, and eyes that bring the stars from above to fill her light brown pools to the brim with their glow. A natural bundle of over ecstatic energy, she’s always moving, always speaking, never burning out. She’s someone you could never forget, someone who always stood out. Qualities like that would have made her perfect in a career of publicity or constant interaction, but to choose a career path of a law enforcement official, such redeeming qualities could easily be viewed as hindering, even obstructive to the job. But Lynne didn’t mind. She never really did mind anything, as long as herself and others were happy. And her happiness was infectious.

“And you have coffee! And it’s still warm.”

“Of course,” Sissel replied. “It’s not every day that the coffee’s _just_ right. A perfect balance of ground coffee beans and cream make this ideal for the slightest chill in the air.”

“Oh, stop with your coffee obsession. It doesn’t help you get up in the morning.”

“Now that’s just rude,” he retorted. “My sleeping habits should be of no concern to you.”

“So then you shouldn’t care about something that concerns both of us?” She was smiling.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Sure.” They walked for a bit before sitting down at Lynne’s desk, Sissel leaning casually against it. After a rather long draw from the coffee cup, he spoke.

“So, what’s the scoop?”

“Our lead finally came through, Sissel.”

“Really? That’s great. You sure he’ll come out?”

“Definitely. It’s not like he has any reason to turn on us.”

A skeptical look took on Sissel’s face, a slight smile playing at his mouth.

“Okay, _maybe_ he has some reasons, but that doesn’t mean he will. We just have to-” She was cut off by a rough voice, projected from behind.

“Lynne, may I speak with you for a moment?” The voice belonged to Detective Jowd, the current head of the department, his head peeking out from the door of his office, his loud orange beard drawing attentive heads, which were then easily dismissed. After all, Lynne being called to the office was not a momentous event; it regularly occurred on a weekly basis. Sissel and the head detective shared a small nod of greeting as Lyne made her way over and slipped inside. The conversation seemed to start off normally, Lynne wearing her bright, smiling face, but it gradually turned into a visibly irritated look, giving her the appearance of a child being scolded. That was the dynamic of their relationship. Detective Jowd was a sort of father figure to Lynne, considering he was the one who helped her into the role of a detective, and took care to ensure that she would be alright. Of course, that didn’t mean that he didn’t come across as overprotective at times, protection that Lynne did not very much appreciate. Curious, Sissel slinked over quietly, looked through the window, and then slowly, quietly, opened the door. The two detectives elevated voices masked his entrance.

“But Jowd!” The small whine in her voice was evident.

“Lynne, I’m sorry, but I don’t have much of a say in it. The Chief does not want us to investigate the case any longer.” _‘He’s talking about our case,’_ Sissel concluded. _‘What’s the problem?’_

“But I know this case better than anyone! Me and Sissel have probably clocked in months of work for evidence and investigation, and the chief just wants to close it off?!”

“Why does he want us off the case in the first place?” Both detectives turned to face the new body in the room, leaning against the wall cooly.

“It’s probably because, oh, I don’t know, you two are investigating what could potentially be a matter of international importance, not to mention you’re throwing yourselves in front of a gun every time you go scrambling off doing god knows what.”

“Hey!” Lynne exclaimed. “That was only one time, and we took care of him, right Sissel?”

“Well…” He played a coy smile and a shrug of his shoulders,

“Sissel…”

“Yeah. that’s about right.” She smiled and turned again to Jowd.

"We can take care of ourselves, Jowd. We don't need the Commish babysitting us." Jowd sighed.

"I'll consider taking it up with him. But if he wants you two off, you're off." A small smile twitched at Jowd's beard, and with a hand, he motioned the two to come closer.

"Of course, anything that falls under the table stays under the table, remember?"

Mischievous grins adorned all three faces, and Lynne took Sissel and dragged him out of the precinct, shoved him into the car and drove off. Jowd chuckled, the humor helping to ease some of the tension of an awaited and lengthy conversation with the commissioner.


	2. Chapter 2

"You got the files, Sissel?" asked Lynne, casually driving down a rather old road, despite the massive amount of cracks and bumps.

"As always," he responded, flipping through one of the many sheets he had piled in his lap. "Let's see, we have to check in with our potential contact, see what he had to offer, especially on that warehouse. Investigate, then file it." Lynne smiled thoughtfully, earning a confused look from Sissel.

"I just love having you around, Sissel,” she clarified. “You're like my personal secretary. Just not so... secretary-ish." Sissel snorted at that.

"Would a skirt and heels satisfy you?"

"No! That would mentally scar me! I don't want another Cabanela incident."

"So you don't want me to wear a bra? You dirty girl."

"Shut up!" With a gentle shove and laughter, Lynne kept on driving, the conversation going on and on about anything and everything. To say they were friends would be an understatement, even good friends. The trust built between them goes beyond any forged friendship between anyone. There was care, confidence, protectiveness. Each one would put their life out for the other, and both of them were aware of that. That's why they worked so well together; no one was allowed to die.

After a long drive, they made it to the contact point. It was an old place of the city, the residents reclusive and hidden, but always watching. If you were quick enough, you could catch the small wave of a curtain closing, hands gripping at the slide to lift it open again.

It was at a particular house, a wooden one with a chipping structure, unfinished, gaping holes for windows, where they were going to meet. They were "technically" investigating a string of unusual deaths, potentially stretching as far back as ten years, but it grew into something much more elaborate and "interesting," in Lynne's opinion. If their hunches were right, they could potentially bring down an entire secret organization. Big deal. For Lynne, it was exciting. For Sissel, it was nerve wracking. Unlike Lynne, he had to thoroughly go through each file, study the photos of the poor dead souls who probably only pissed off the wrong person. He just didn't want to see someone he knew in the poor sod's place, just because he and Lynne were sticking their noses in something they shouldn't have. Sure, it was a risk with the job, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t think about it every now and then, however involuntary. A gentle tap from Lynne brought him out of this train of thought.

"Hey Sissy, you okay?" Her mouth read playful, but her eyes showed genuine concern. He gently brushed her hand away.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" Her eyes returned to their natural state of overflowing shine.

"I can call you ‘Sissy’ whenever I want,” she retorted. “‘Sissy’ without a gun!"

"Hey, that's because I'm not allowed to carry one!" he argued back.

"You're too much of a ‘Sissy’ to use one!"

"Stop it!"

"Sissy!"

"Lynne!"

"Okay! Okay." They stepped out the car, a professional air surrounding them now. It was time to get to work. A figure loomed in the doorway of the unfinished building, head covered with a hood, starting at the partners. The figure stepped out and lowered it's hood, revealing itself to be a man. He had a rough stubble, at least a week old, lining a weak jawline, as if his mouth was falling away from his face, as if it wanted to run off and tell the world every little little secret kept behind it. His eyes were bulging, wide, mixed with observance and fear. ‘Rat-Face,’ Sissel named him in his mind. Lynne was the first to speak.

“Hey there, sir. How much do you have?”

“Not a dime, but plenty of value.” HIs voice was raspy but high, almost as if strained. Whether or not Lynne noticed, she gave no sign that she did.

“What do you have for us?” she asked. Sissel took out a small notepad and pen as Rat-Face began to speak in that squeaky voice.

“They have more than that one shipping front, and plenty of warehouses. All of them are guarded, except this one over by the east docks, warehouse 34. No one’s watching that one, and they won’t be till ‘bout four ‘o clock. The warehouse should have something inside for you.” Both parties were quiet, momentarily, until Rat-Face broke the silence.

“Uh, that’s all I could get. I gotta get back before someone finds out I’m gone, alright?”

“I got it, Lynne,” Sissel said just as Lynne was about to say a word of protest. “It’s best that he gets back,” he added.

“You know the drill,” Lynne addressed to Rat-Face. “You let us know when you have something new, okay?”

“I got it,” he replied. The partners returned to the vehicle as the rat-faced man slipped back into the building. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, his breathing was hitched and panicked. Another man, dressed in a dark suit with a hat slipped out of the shadows, a shine gleamed off a golden shotgun. Rat-Face gasped.

“I-I-I did what y-you wanted.” His voice was shaking uncontrollably, his body trembling with fear, dreading that the weapon may be turned on him.

“Yes you did.” The suited man’s voice was smooth and slick, with a slight drawl to it, cunning, pulling you into the shadows to be met nothingness. It seemed to magnify the effect of the mood. Relaxed, his voice could lull you into a dreamy slumber, but tense and scared, the voice would wrack your nerves and tear them apart. The nervous wreck of a man felt a warmth run between his legs as Mr. Suit stepped out into the light.

“You’ll let me go, right? You said you would,” he stuttered.

“I didn’t say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I said that I wouldn’t hurt you, implying that that you would be alive to feel the pain. I never said I wouldn’t kill you.”

“N-no, please. I-I don’t-”

“Don’t wanna die, right?” He nodded shakily.

“Sorry sucker. I’ve gotta job to do, and I like to see them through.”

“No, plea-” And so a gunshot rang out. No one questioned it, no one informed the police. After all, it’s normal for some bum to go ‘pop’ around here.

* * *

 

Lynne and Sissel were a long way gone after a while, contemplating how they should continue on with this new information.

“You sure we shouldn’t tell, Lynne? It’s not like the day’s going to pass any faster if we don’t.”

“Not yet,” she responded. “Knowing Jowd, he wouldn’t let us within a thirty-foot radius of the place. If we want to make sure this is done right, we have to be there.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do it alone,” he countered. “We could get someone, anyone else to file for a search.”

“With what evidence, Sissel?”

“Now you’re concerned about the evidence? Since when has that stopped you before?”

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying…”

The two rode in silence after that, both of them thinking of separate things. Lynne was ready to jump into the fire of all this, not out of pride, but out of obligation. She felt that she had to be the one to figure out this potentially grand murder spree; she owed it to the families. Sissel, on the other hand, knew that they couldn’t blindly throw themselves into this mess; they had to have some form of support.

But they had to make a truce at some point.

“Lynne…” Sissel started. She did not respond. He kept talking. “Just let it be a paperwork day today. At least until we have to go. And we radio for help on the way. But we can still take on whatever’s there by ourselves first.”

“...you know how much I hate your compromising skills?”

“You still love me.” Lynne smiled again, bringing everything back to normal before responding.

“Yeah. I do.”

* * *

 

“Well, this is the place, right Sissel?” Lynne was standing in a bold stance in front of the warehouse.

“Yes. Warehouse number 34. You called for help? We agreed that you would.”

“Yeah, yeah. They should be coming down soon. In the meantime, let’s bust up this place!”

“I don’t think that’s a good-” but Lynne was already running through the door to the building, as if she was trying to bring all the attention to their discovery. Muttering under his breath lightheartedly, Sissel snuck in after her. 

Once both of them were inside, they looked out and their jaws, quite comically, dropped. Millions of billions of crates and boxes and barrels filled the room, occupying every tangible space available, leaving only enough room to pass around and have towering stacks of containers loom overhead.

“We’re going to need more trucks than backup,” whispered Sissel.

“We might as well take the whole building,” Lynne replied. They began to look around, simply reading labels, trying to comprehend the vast quantity of items; they almost missed the rumbling of an engine outside.

“Is that them?” asked Sissel.

“I don’t think so. It only sounded like one car. There should at least be two. No way Jowd would just send one guy out here.” They heard the door open and hid behind some boxes. They were in different parts of the warehouse, and Lynne was the first to see who got inside. A well-dressed man stood looking out, seemingly scouting the area clear to him.

He had a golden shotgun, loaded and ready to fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think.  
> If you want to talk to me about this AU, feel free to hit me up on my Tumblr, @a-weird-blog-in-general.


End file.
